Dead chicks rock the house

A zombie
chomped on Mom, then Mom ate Dad. At that point, Louis decided it was time to leave home.

Zombies had
already ate most of the kids in Key West High School, but that thought didn’t
bother Louis so much, since most of them were assholes. They made fun of Louis a lot, just because
Louis was different. Louis never dated
or talked in class or did homework or played sports. Louis was pretty confused about who he was, and spent a lot of time thinking about it. Was he gay? He didn’t think so.
Was he insane? He seemed sane enough.

Worst of all, Louis was seventeen
years old, and never seemed to get a purposeful erection.
Sometimes he had normal morning wood, but
nothing he ever saw, in magazines, at school, around the town, ever made him feel
all hot and sexy. That was just plain
wrong. Every other boy in high school
was a walking boner. He remembered the
time he went under the bleachers and looked up under the cheerleader’s skirts,
desperate to make the blood pump, but nothing happened.
Louis continued to wonder what was going on
in life, even after normal life ended in a worldwide chomp-fest.

It was hard
out in the big wide world, without Mom and Dad. Even more so, now that everyone was a zombie.
Louis learned to stay hidden most of the
time, and to move quickly when he had to go out. Sometimes he had as many as thirty zombies chasing after
him. Some were the reanimated corpses
of old men, some of little kids, a few times the shuffling undead bodies of
kids he went to high school with. Louis
ran and ran and ran, and hid and hid and hid.

One day he
went up into the lighthouse that all the tourists liked to come visit, before
they all turned into zombies. He looked
down at all of them, wandering around, grunting and growling.
One zombie started cars and drove down White
Street, until running over other zombies and smashing into parked cars.
Then he would start another car and do it
all over again. A different zombie was
on the street corner trying to paint a landscape. Some zombies held hands with their former lovers.
Old habits die hard.

That’s when
Louis figured out zombies are not very smart.
Not smart at all.

Louis went
down to the bottom of the lighthouse and grabbed up a partially eaten arm, then
smeared the gore all over him. He
walked out into the street.

The zombies
ignored him.

“A-ha!”
Louis thought. He shuffled his feet and
sometimes he let out an ominous undead moan, and suddenly he was an accepted
member of society.

That went
on for a while. But while the zombies
around him hung out in the Winn Dixie parking lot, hoping to catch a starving
living person making a desperate run for food, Louis snuck in, all zombie
fashion, and pilfered a can of Spam or two.
He was getting along pretty good.

One day he
decided to live in one of the big old Key West houses that the whole world used
to think was so spectacular. He found a
nice one on United Street, three stories tall, with lots of living space.
He zombie shuffled his way around back, and
then climbed in through an open window.

“Brain the
fucker!” A woman shouted, and Louis ducked just before a pickaxe smacked into
the wall where his head used to be.

“Holy crap!” The man holding the pickaxe said “Are you alright kid?
Do you have any food?”

“Yeah,
sure. Here.” Louis held out a can of Spam, which the man and woman split in
half and ate. Louis thought it was kind
of rude, not offering him any. Not that
he was hungry. He climbed in the window
as they chewed their block of Spam.

“We were
starving.” The man said. “We ran out of
food a week ago. I went out once in my
truck, trying to get us some food, but the zombies just kept coming.
I thought they were going to turn my truck
over. One of them had a gun and started
shooting at me through the glass.”

“They
figured out to stay near the grocery stores.” Louis said.
“That’s where the people always go.
They’re kind of smart about some things, but
real dumb about others.”

“Twenty-two.”
Rita said, “And Brian is twenty-four.
We came down to Key West to get married. It never happened though.
Things went all to Hell and the zombies showed up.
Who did this?
Who made everyone turn into a zombie? Did you hear on the news how it started in Virginia?
Do you think the CIA or the FBI or something
was involved in this?”

She went on
like this for some time, asking lots of questions and not really interested in
the answers.

“Why do you
have that goop all over you?” Brian asked.
He was back to holding the pickaxe.
Louis admitted it was probably a pretty good zombie weapon.
One on one, that is.

“The zombies
can’t figure out you’re alive if you look like a zombie.”
Louis said.

Brian and
Rita looked stunned. They obviously had
never thought of that.

“We can go
get some food and water!” Brian said, and started moving, probably looking for
some goop.

“You still
gotta be careful, you know.” Louis
said. “Some of the zombies are
cannibals. They are liable to take a
bite out of you whether they think you are alive or not.
Also, you can’t let any of them bump into
you. They’re cold and we are not.
You also need to watch out for…”

“Got it.”
Brian said. “You two stay here, I am
going out to get us some food and water.
Rita, take care of this poor kid, he is probably in shock, after all
that has happened.”

“I feel
alright.” Louis said. “Maybe I should go.
You really got to be careful about…”

“No way
kid. It’s too dangerous.”
Brian said.
He gave Rita the pickaxe, and then gave her a dramatic kiss.

“Take care,
my love. You are the most important
thing in the world to me.” He said, and unbolted the back door.
He ripped some meat off the side of a dead
chicken and smeared it all over his arms and shirt and pants.
But he didn’t put any goop on his face.
Louis guessed he just didn’t have the
courage to smear chicken guts on his face.

“He’s not
going to make it.” Louis said.

“What?”
Rita asked, and then she got stupid too.
“Brian! Brian!” She started
yelling out the window. “Come back!
The kid says you aren’t going to make
it!” Her voice was really loud.
Brian made hand signs to her to be quiet,
and then made an OK sign. He was so
dead.

Rita’s
voice must have attracted zombies from all over the island.
As they started coming toward the house,
some running, some shuffling, some hobbling on shattered ankles, Brian tried to
act like a zombie.

It didn’t
work for a second. They dove on him
with mouths open. The usual sounds of
screaming wound down into the usual sounds of zombies moaning and eating.

“Oh my
God!” Rita screamed, hysterical. That
was not smart. Three zombies broke into
the house and tackled her.

“Woooaaaaaaa.”
Louis said, from back in the corner. He
had his head tilted way off to the right, as if the muscles in his neck had
given out. His hands dangled down at
his sides. As the three fed, he
shuffled up the stairs, slowly, to avoid their attention.
It was easy; they were busy eating.

The biggest
problem with a stuffed zombie is they get lazy. The zombies stayed downstairs for three days, before finally
moving on. Louis spent the whole time
reading some of Rita’s magazines (he guessed they were Rita’s, they didn’t get
to know each other very well). He
learned all about how to apply mascara and what diets worked best to stay slim
over the summer. He stared at the
models in bikinis, hoping to stir some part of his sexuality to life.
Nothing happened. It was even more
depressing than a world full of brain eating zombies.

Eventually
Louis shuffled down the stairs, after he thought he was safe.
He was all out of Spam, and had only one
bottle of water left, stuffed in the side pocket of his trousers.
An observant zombie would have noticed he
was the only zombie on the hot southern island wearing long pants and a
backpack. Lots of storage space is important,
when you live on the move.

Rita was
still down there, only partially eaten.
Most of her arms and her left leg were gone, but that was about it.

Rita stared
off into dead space, unmoving, her mouth frozen in a rictus of terror.
It was a pretty terrible way to die, Louis
supposed. Her blouse was pulled
partially off, and one breast, small and blue, pointed toward the heavens.

POW!
There it was, a brickbat of a boner.
After a woozy moment or two, Louis undid the
few remaining buttons on her blouse and opened it up. Both breasts, small, blue and frozen in rigormortis, swam in his
vision. Louis’s chest hurt.
He couldn’t breath.
He had a hell of a teepee going on in his
underwear, and he wondered if it would explode.

Louis
wasn’t sure how long he stood there, staring at those black nipples.
His erection, long missing from his life,
raged like a hurricane. When Rita began
to twitch a bit it only made the dizziness worse, but safety was
important. Louis shuffled out the door.

Outside, he
saw what was left of Brian. They really
worked him over. He was missing both arms
and legs entirely. His guts were pulled
out and his crotch chewed off. Part of
his face was missing. Some zombie had
cracked open the top of his head, digging out the brains.
That was an old zombie trick, passed on
through observation. There was almost
always one zombie in the crowd who carried a tire iron or hammer to break open
the skull. For being so stupid, zombies
were pretty efficient when it came to eating people. It was a good thing.
Those who didn’t get their brains eaten, like Rita, became zombies
themselves.

Staring at Brian’s chewed up
corpse, Louis’s erection went away. “At
least I’m not a gaynecrophiliac.” He thought.

He walked
down the evening streets of old Key West in a true zombie daze.
Why did he suddenly get a hard on over
Rita? He had seen lots of breasts
before. Heck, summertime in Key West,
prior to the zombie invasion, had been like a melon parade.
Was it because she was only twitching?
Was it because she was blue?

Was it
because she was dead? Louis stopped
walking. He stared at his toes, lost in
concentration.

He went to
Albertson’s Grocery and picked up some beefjerky, bottled water, candy corn,
and eight cans of Spam. Out in the
parking lot he saw a Jeep making a break for it. The driver was trying the old battering ram method, which never
worked. Zombies threw themselves into
the path of the oncoming vehicle, one managed to jump through the
windshield. Four people came running
out of the Jeep, wearing helmets and firing shotguns and pistols.
They got gang tackled.
Yelling.
Screaming. Chewing.
Nice try.
They made such a commotion that Louis didn’t have to walk slowly and
moan. All the zombies were at the
buffet.

When Louis
got back to the big house on United Street, Rita was rolled over onto her
stomach. The bones of her arms flapped
against the hard wood floor. Sooner or
later she would figure out a way to get up and walk around.
They always did. Louis didn’t want her to go.

Now that
Louis had an object of desire, he asked the world’s oldest teenage
question, “How can I get some nooky?”

In a shed
out back, Louis found an orange electrical cord about thirty feet long.
He made a noose in it, and got it around
Rita’s feet before she turned on him.
She was feisty, still mostly fresh and driven by the strength of insane
hunger. Up and down the stairs they
went, Louis running, Rita on knees and the stubs of her elbows.
Louis realized she wasn’t going to get
tired. On the next lap through the
upstairs bedroom, into the bathroom, and then back into the hall, he grabbed a
hold of her trailing electrical cord and tied it around the banister.
Not too smart about some things, she never
thought of untying her feet, but Louis knew she would work her way free sooner
or later. And she would never forget
that Louis was alive. Once revealed as
an imposter, a zombie never forgot he was alive. He considered braining her – a nail driven through a two by four
always worked well – but something made him decide against it.
He wanted her alive.
Or undead.
Whatever.

Outside he
found a tarp and another electrical cord.
He went back up the stairs and found Rita chewing on the electrical cord
around her feet. That was pretty smart,
for a zombie. He threw the tarp over
her and jumped on. It was tricky.
She was pretty strong, but he eventually got
her rolled up in the tarp. He then rolled
her over and over to wind the electrical cord tight, and tied it off at both
ends with a nice square knot.

With Rita
completely wrapped up in the tarp, Louis considered how stupid he was
acting. He was risking his life,
fighting with a zombie, and for what?
But emotions defy logic, and Louis realized he had no choice in this
issue.

Now he had
to figure out how to secure her without all that wrapping.
He wanted to see those breasts again.

It took
four dangerous trips to Scotty’s hardware store to get enough lumber, rope,
nails and glue. Some zombies, either
mistaking Scotty’s for a grocery store, or cleverly covering another living
being watering hole, were guarding the entrance. He had to climb the chain link fence at the side and gather his
materials that way. Walking home, with boards
over his shoulder, shuffling and moaning in the Key West summertime sun, was
hard work. He passed a zombie trying to
get a dial tone from a pay phone.
Another zombie crashed a Porsche into a wall just twenty feet away from
him. It was a dangerous world.

Louis was
afraid the banging hammer would attract zombies, so he built his zombie sex
machine two houses down, constantly stopping to scout for uninvited
guests. Finally he got the boards
nailed together, reinforced with wood glue and wraps of rope.
It was in the shape of a stick figure, arms
and legs spread in a Y. He even had a
cushion at the top, for Rita to rest her undead, zombie head against.

Getting the
zombie love machine back home was hard work.
It had to be turned sideways to make it out the door, and he had to
carry it, partially dragging, on his back like a cross.
By the time he got home, tired and hot, he
heard Rita thumping around upstairs. He
went up, and saw she had chewed away most of the tarp near her head.
One arm, broken off at a sharp bit of bone
above the elbow, had stabbed through the tarp and waved frantically.
When she saw him, her pretty zombie mouth
began to gnash in hunger.

“Eat…your…brains!”
She said.

“Take care,
my love.” Louis said. He thought he
sounded much better than Brian had, when he said it.

It was more
close, dangerous work, but Louis strapped her down. First the head, with those biting teeth, was secured around the
neck with three loops of rope. She
almost got him with a sudden snap, but Louis was lucky.
Next he bound the stub of a right arm, still
sticking out of the tarp. She was wiggling
like mad. He cut a slit in the other
side of the tarp and helped her pull out her left arm.
It was also mostly devoured, and easy to
strap down. Her legs were another
story. They were still strong.
But Louis was determined, and finally got her
spreadeagle and tied down. Then he cut
loose the tarp and electrical cord around her middle, and cut off her blouse
and pants. She lay there in stained
panties, and Louis’s erection grew to Godzilla size, becoming the center of the
universe.

Water still
came from the bathtub faucet, surprisingly, so Louis took a bath and washed off
the sticky dried blood and guts that he had been wearing for months.
He toweled off slowly, humming to himself,
and put on some cologne he found in the medicine cabinet.
He combed his hair, parting it carefully
down the side. “You are the most
important thing in the world to me.” He said.

Downstairs,
Rita was calm, cool, inviting. Her head
swiveled on her bound neck, following his every move. Her breasts, perky, peppered with splinters, proudly black at the
tips, poked toward the ceiling. Louis
ran a hand down the smooth expanse of her stomach, cool and placid as a moonlit
lake, and rested his fingers over her still growing pubic hair.
Her smell was intoxicating.

“This is
what I have been waiting for.” Louis said, and then he climbed on her, and
became a modern day man.

It was
during their third bout of lovemaking that Louis got careless.
Spent and exhausted, he rested his head on
her still shoulder, and she suddenly jerked and took a chunk out of him.

“This is
bad.” Louis thought. “How could I have
been so stupid?” He wasn’t the first
teenage boy to have regrets after sex, and he wouldn’t be the last.

Louis began
to turn that night. He was wracked with
pain. He put a dishtowel in his mouth
to keep from howling and attracting other zombies. He wasn’t sure whether they would eat him at this point or not.

Two days
later, the transformation was complete.
He left Rita strapped to the sex machine without another thought.

Being
mostly whole, and considerably fresher than the competition, Louis ruled the
island for a while. He was smart
too. He knew to go into quiet homes in
the early morning hours to find sleeping meat.
He carried a claw hammer in his right trouser pocket, perfect for
getting through the hard skull. He
spent the hot summer days at Winn Dixie parking lot, more for company than
anything else. Whenever the meat showed
up he got the best parts.

There were
lots of female zombies around. One of
them was a cheerleader he went to school with.
She still didn’t interest him.

One early
morning, hungry, Louis slipped into the back window of a dark, seemingly
deserted townhouse near the ocean. The
low moon was full and reflected beautifully off the water, shining in through
the glass and exposing a woman sleeping on a mattress lying on the floor.
Candles had burnt themselves out beside her,
and an empty can of corn lay nearby. He
closed in for the kill, when the covers slipped down, exposing a full,
beautiful breast in the moonlight. Her
heart beating beneath her breast made it jiggle slightly.

Louis felt
a strange, undeademotion, and an uncomfortable pressure between his legs.
He stared at her in silence for a long
time. He then asked the worlds oldest
teenage question, “How can I get some nooky?”

Unlucky in
love, Louis made too much noise dragging a torn up tarp through the window, and
the woman awoke and expertly put a shish kabob sticker through his eye and into
his brain. Louis never felt a thing,
and died peacefully, for a change. As
the sun began to rise over the quiet island, the woman left Louis hanging in
the windowsill, his romantic intentions ultimately rejected, as she walked out
the door to bravely face the post-apocalyptic world.